A Tragedy at Amon Hen
by Torli
Summary: An arrow changes the fate of the Fellowship forever.


Disclaimer: I don´t own Lord of the Rings. And I asked Alraune (credit is below the text)

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><p><em> Amon Hen, Year 3019 of the Third Age<em>

Legolas knelt beside the prone figure of one of his best friends. He was no longer afraid to call the truth by its name, whatever his father might think. And yet, too late had he chosen to do so. He turned the limp figure onto his lap, gently supporting its lolling head as if it mattered. It did, if only to him. His left hand searched for the lifeless hand of his friend and clasped it tightly. He felt so old now…so old even though he was young by the standards of his own people, the Firstborn. His eyes squeezed shut, he fought to regain his balance – the elf didn´t cry in centuries and the thought itself…it was strange. Unpleasant even.

Legolas gently shifted his charge and laid fingers on the jugular vein of the Man, in the last attempt to find a life within a shell where he was sure none was to be found. Elven hearts were rarely mistaken in those matters as the death was not common among them.

There was nothing. No pulse of the noble heart to prove him wrong. The skin was lukewarm, slick with the sweat from the battle in which his friend had laid down his life and dirty from the gore found only after battle.

A sudden wave of rage filled him. _A freak accident – an arrow taken into the leg, not even shredding a vein or breaking a bone. An arrow which tip was dipped in something foul and the poison made its way quickly through Aragorn´s system, not even granting him time to notice that…_

Legolas closed his eyes once again and fought down the wave of nausea which hit him unexpectedly. Several intakes of air later, he was once again – not composed, but at least at peace enough to do what was necessary.

The Fellowship was broken, of that Legolas had no doubt.

Boromir had fallen under the influence of the One Ring and paid with his life for that mistake. Yet, in the end, he redeemed himself – he protected those who needed it, the hobbits Merry and Pipin. The fact that he was not successful in his last duty did not mean that the Elf´s respect was any less.

Gimli paid with his life whilst standing in the battle side by side with the Elf, protecting him from the Uruk – hai attack. For that, even the old hatred between Wood Elves and dwarfs seemed small and not important. Legolas wowed to himself that his kin under the Lone Mountain will know of what he had done. _There will be songs of your bravery, my friend, and those will be singed till the end of the world itself._

There was not a shadow of doubt in his heart that Pipin and Merry were still alive and therefore needed his help. Yet, there was at the same time a question of what to do with the corpses of his friends, slain in the battle with skuruts. And what about Frodo and his loyal servant Sam?

Legolas searched the bank of the mighty river Anduin and found out that Sam and Frodo took one of the Lorien boats and were already on the other bank, heading for Mordor. Legolas heart longed to go after them, to fulfil his promise given on the Council of Elrond, yet his head and sense of duty told him otherwise.

A quick search revealed a tiny crack in the rock of Amon Hen and guarded by an old tree. It was a gruesome task, to lay out the three fellows in it, but in the end, Legolas managed to do so.

"Rest well, my friends and I pray that Mandos welcomes you to his Halls with open arms. You fought well."

Outside, the old tree listened to his pleas of guarding his friend´s eternal slumber. He moved and hid the entrance to the crack readily, prepared to stand his ground for many years to come. The Greenleaf thanked him and fingered the three things he took from the corpses to give to his friend´s families should he ever have the chance – a bead from Gimli to be returned under the Lone Mountain, a pendant of the Evenstar to return to the Rivendell and a mouthpiece from Boromir´s Horn to return to Gondor.

Then, Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil turned after the steps left behind by Orcs who had taken Merry and Pipin. The hunt had begun.

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><p><em>Author´s Note: This story was inspired by a fanart Not Without Me made by Alraune TB, who has graciously agreed that I may use it as a source of inspiration. If you are interested, it can be found under the same name on deviantart.<em>

_I´m not exactly what you may call a familiar fan of the Lord of the Rings, but I have read it several times and whatever mistakes you may find are only my own for I lack the necessary knowledge to avoid them (although I had made a research to get everything right the first time around.). And if there are any mistakes in grammar or vocabulary – those are my own, for I´m not a native speaker of the language, merely a student of it_.


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